


Urban Pleasures

by whyyouacknsocraycray



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Angst, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, no one ever beats up Dutch, so i'm changing that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyyouacknsocraycray/pseuds/whyyouacknsocraycray
Summary: (Spoilers up to Chapter 4)  The trolley robbery in Saint Denis ends a little different, leaving Dutch injured and Arthur in charge of the gang.  Also posted on Fanfiction.net
Comments: 26
Kudos: 122





	1. The Trolley Problem

**Author's Note:**

> No one every seems to beat up Dutch, so I decided to change that! I really wanted to write about the group dynamic when Dutch isn't in charge, and how things would be different because of it. Of course, in this house, Arthur Morgan is perfectly healthy (or if you are a stickler for canon, not going to Guarma helps his health greatly).

"The thing's broke," Arthur said. Compared to some of their previous robberies, attempting escape on a runaway trolley was a pretty new low. Though it also seemed to be a fitting end to an already botched job. The trolley station itself, which supposedly had stacks of cash had been a tip courtesy of Angelo Bronte, the horrible little snake. Why Dutch thought that Bronte, the man that agreed to hold little Jack as ransom for the Braithwaites, who claimed (and clearly did) own the entire city, ever want to help a bunch of outlaws from the country get money? Arthur knew better than to trust him, so why didn't Dutch?

"Hold on!" he shouted to Lenny and Dutch, bracing himself for their inevitable impact as the trolley slammed into a wagon and jumped the tracks, sliding across the cobbled road until it's sudden stop at a brick wall. The three men were flung around the trolley car, tumbling around until it finally settled on its side.

Well, Arthur thought, at least he hadn't broken his neck. He righted himself and shook his head as the ringing in his ears slowly dissipated. Lenny and Dutch seemed OK, too. Or alive, at least, if the pained groans were anything to go by. They all would certainly have bruises tomorrow, and Arthur counted himself fortunate to not feel any broken bones as he pulled himself to the back of the trolley. Of course, they still had to fight their way out of this one. Police officers nearby blew their whistles and raced to the scene. Lenny checked on Dutch, leaving Arthur to find what meager cover he could to face the surrounding lawmen alone.

"You alright?" Lenny called out, Arthur keeping the lawmen down as they exited the trolley. Dutch moved more stiffly than usual, but soon he had his pistol out and ready. The kid moved to hide behind some wagon wreckage in front of Arthur.

"They're on the balcony, to my right!" Lenny said, and Arthur immediate shifted his focus to shoot the new threat. They were causing quite the pile of bodies, he realized. The Pinkertons would no doubt connect them to this.

If they even made it out alive.

A moment of quiet, with no gunfire returning from up the street, and Dutch said, "This is our chance to move! Let's go!" Lenny led them to an alley, Dutch following right behind. Arthur turn to fire at a blockade that had formed along the trolley line, preventing them from leaving the city, before running to join them, reloading while he could.

But the alley contained more lawmen, and though Lenny and Dutch quickly took care of them, Arthur could see their escape routes running out. It happened again when they reached the another street. The lawmen pulled up in a wagon, horses dancing in fear but not running away. "Shit, that almost got me," Lenny said, and Arthur took out the offender.

"First the O'Driscolls attack us at camp, now this! We need to wake up!" Arthur said, needing to vent some of his frustration as they quickly ran out of options.

"We'll wake up after we-" Dutch started, but was cut off by a sudden choked gasp. Arthur turned just in time to see Dutch fall to the side, before tracking back to the man on the balcony. The man who shot him!

Time seemed to slow as Arthur raised his revolver and unloaded his remaining shots into the officer. He kept watch just long enough to see the man stagger and fall before he was running to Dutch's side.

"Dutch!" he called out, grabbing his shoulder and turning him onto his back.

"Boss? You alright?" Lenny asked.

"Keep firing, kid!"

Arthur focused on where Dutch had his hands clasped over his stomach. A pit was forming in Arthur's chest as he peeled the hand back just enough to see the blood forming under them.

"Shit, Dutch."

Dutch's face was scrunched up against the pain. "We need to move," he gasped, just as Lenny shouted back to them, "Let's move!"

Arthur dragged Dutch up with him, wrapping one arm around his waist to guide him up the street, keeping his right hand free to shoot at any more police that showed up. There couldn't be that many left, right?

Rounding another corner revealed yet another group in their way, and Arthur was forced to drop Dutch behind a crate. As soon as the men were taken care of, Arthur pulled Dutch back to his feet. But he swayed immediately, seemed to have paled considerably in just a few moments. They couldn't stop to wait for him to recover. Arthur crouched down and heaved Dutch over his shoulder without a second thought, taking off down the street after Lenny.

It wasn't ideal. The added weight was throwing off his balance, and there was the unsettling feeling of blood beginning to absorb into his shirt and vest. But with Lenny in the lead keeping an eye out, they were doing alright. He really was a good kid.

The terrifying part was just how quiet Dutch was. Strauss, after being shot in the leg, had shifted and complained the entire way across Valentine. Even John, half-frozen and starved with scratches across his face, had groaned out some semblance of a conversation as they trekked through the snow. But Dutch didn't move, didn't speak, didn't seem to realize that Arthur was carrying him through a bloodbath.

"He alive?" Lenny asked.

"He'll be fine," Arthur said, hoping he was right, terrified that he wasn't. "We just need to get him back to camp!"

"There! The wagon!" Lenny pointed up the street to the a small wagon with two frightened horses bucking and rearing but remarkably not running away. Arthur ran to the back, gently placing Dutch so he was leaned against the side. Dutch's eyes were only half open and slowly blinking. He wasn't even moving to keep pressure on the wound anymore, so Arthur pulled off his vest, pressing it into his stomach and guiding Dutch's hand to keep it in place. They weren't out of danger yet, and with Lenny driving, it was up to Arthur to keep the law off their tail.

"Stay awake, Dutch, alright?"

He didn't wait for a response. He crouched over Dutch, keeping his head on a swivel and shooting at any approaching blue coat. "Head for the bridge!" They seemed to be in the clear, but he saw horses at the other end.

"Damn, they blocked the road!"

"Shit," Arthur muttered, wondering how they could possibly get away when they were being blocked from both sides. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dutch sluggishly reach into his jacket, and when the object was only halfway out, he recognized it. "Good thinking," he said, snatching the stick of dynamite out of Dutch's hand.

"Lenny, toss it!"

He stood up, tracking the dynamite as it fell closer and closer to the wagon before squeezing the trigger, the explosion knocking the men and the wagon aside.

"We're through!" he said to Dutch, and the other man sighed, eyes falling shut. "Hey, don't do that, keep your eyes open for me!" Dutch groaned, but did as Arthur said.

"You two OK back there?"

"Just keep going kid. Keep a lookout for anyone following us, and get us back to camp!"

He turned back to Dutch, concern growing at the beads of sweat forming on the injured man's face, at how pale he was, at just how much blood was currently soaking into his vest. Arthur leaned more pressure against the wound, causing Dutch to gasp. "I'm sorry, but I gotta do it," he said. "We'll get you back to camp and stitch you up and Hosea can yell at you for worrying him. You'll be just fine."

He kept an eye out for horses following them, worried about anyone finding their camp. But it seemed that they were finally in the clear. Lenny kept up a fast pace, and soon they were close to camp.

"Who goes there!" Bill shouted from the tree line, probably not expecting their wagon. "It's Lenny!"

"We made it back, Dutch," Arthur said, but the older man's eyes had drifted shut. Arthur slammed his fingers against Dutch's neck, frantically checking to make sure his pulse was still there. It was, rapid and weak. He began lightly tapping Dutch's cheek. "Hey, wake up. I need you to wake up now, we're home!" But Dutch wouldn't open his eyes, wouldn't speak, even when Lenny started yelling for Hosea, even when Arthur began to pull him out of the wagon and into his arms, even when the crowd began to gather around them.

He just wouldn't wake up.


	2. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bad at naming chapters. Also, please excuse my lack of medical knowledge.

“Bring him in here,” Hosea said, calm and in control. But Arthur knew better. He knew that underneath the collected tone, Hosea was in just as much of a panic as Arthur himself. But he couldn’t stop, couldn’t break down now. Not with Dutch’s blood still soaking into his shirt, the man himself still unresponsive in Arthur’s arms.

Miss Grimshaw was trying in vain to keep the entire gang from crowding around Arthur as he followed Hosea up to Dutch’s room, their questions and demands filling his ears. Arthur just kept moving. Lenny was swallowed up behind him, left to explain just what exactly had gone wrong during the robbery. And there was plenty of that.

Molly shrieked when they entered the room, leaping up from hers and Dutch’s bed and running over to him. Swanson caught her around the middle, keeping her back as Arthur laid Dutch flat on the bed. He kept applying pressure to the wound until he felt Hosea and Swanson push him aside, leaving him to linger awkwardly in the corner. He kept his eyes locked onto Dutch’s face, watching every shallow breath to make sure it wasn’t the last.

“Shit, we have to get the bullet out,” Hosea muttered after examining the wound. “Someone needs to help hold him down.”

Arthur swallowed heavily. “I’ll get Charles.” Of course, stepping out of the room meant he was immediately bombarded with questions. He ignored the rest of the gang. Instead, he called for Charles and motioned for the man to follow. 

“Need you to hold Dutch’s legs while Hosea gets the bullet out,” he said once they were out of the earshot of the others. Charles, for his part, remained stoic and silent. He immediately took his place at the end of the bed, and Arthur moved up to grab Dutch’s shoulders. Hosea placed a hand on Dutch’s face, a small gesture of comfort before picking up a pair of forceps and pushing into the wound.

The reaction was immediate. Dutch’s whole body tensed, and with a tiny pained gasp he tried weakly to throw Arthur and Charles off. Arthur simply gritted his teeth and tightened his hold. “It’s alright, Dutch, it will be over soon,” Arthur tried to reassure him, but he had no way of knowing if Dutch could even hear him. His head rolled back and forth, eyes darting under closed lids.

“Got it!” Hosea said, and Swanson moved forward with bandages to keep pressure over the hole still leaking blood. Dutch stopped fighting, but he didn’t relax either. But with the immediate danger of the chase past and Miss Grimshaw getting ready to stitch and bandage, Arthur’s worries turned to whether or not the gang was safe. There was no way they could pull any more jobs in town, even if they had seemingly killed the entire police force on their way out. The Pinkertons would be swarming the city, sweeping the area for their camp. Hosea would know what to do, once he was no longer needed at Dutch’s side, but for now the immediate safety concerns fell to Arthur.

“Will you ride out with me and check the area? I don’t think we were followed, but I can’t be sure,” he asked Charles.

“Of course,” he said. “But are you alright? You aren’t hurt, are you?”

Arthur followed Charles’ eyes to the still sticky blood covering his shirt. “I’m fine, it’s not mine.”

“Still, perhaps you should stay. I’ll take John with me.”

He wanted to argue. More than that, he just wanted to keep moving. To keep doing all he could to ensure no one else was hurt. But Charles was right, he should stay to plan with Hosea. Defend the camp if need be. So he just nodded and sent Charles on his way. Slipping into his own room, Arthur slowly stripped the ruined clothes off and grabbed new ones from his trunk. He would have to burn them later, there was no way anyone would get the stains out. He didn’t immediately return to Dutch, instead he went downstairs to check on everyone else. 

Molly sat between Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Abigail, crying her eyes out. Even Karen kept close, though she had a bottle in her hand. Lenny jumped up when he saw Arthur, the poor kid still shaken up by the experience. 

“How is he?” Lenny asked. There was a hitch in Molly’s sobbing when she realized Arthur was there, and all chattering stopped.

“He’s still alive,” Arthur said, and a collective sigh of relief swept through the crowd. “Everyone is here, right? No one’s gone into Saint Denis?”

“Everyone except Charles and John,” Javier confirmed. “Bill and Sadie are on watch.”

“Good, that’s good. Everyone stay here for now. It won’t take long for them to figure out who’s responsible for the mess in town.”

“And when are we going after Bronte, cowpoke?” Micah demanded. 

“We’re not doing anything right now, Micah.”

“You expect me to just sit here?”

“If you got a problem with it, go on watch! But no one leaves this camp!”

Micah got up, grumbling, “Didn’t realize you would seize control as soon as the boss got hurt.”

“I’m trying to keep us alive, you idiot!” Arthur called after him. Whatever Micah was saying got lost as he slipped out the door. Arthur turned to Lenny. “You OK?”

“Me? Fine, I’m fine,” Lenny stammered. “Wish I could have done something different.”

“Don’t think like that, Lenny. It was a shit situation. Stay strong, we’ll be OK.” 

Arthur stayed with the others until Charles and John returned, answering whatever questions he could. Once Charles reported that they were safe, for the moment at least, Arthur slipped back up the stairs and into Dutch’s room.

Hosea sat on the edge of Dutch’s bed, carefully tucking the blanket around the unconscious man. Miss Grimshaw wasn’t even trying to hide her tears, and Reverend sat off to the side, staring blankly out the window. Arthur froze. He stayed awkwardly in the doorway until Hosea noticed him.

“Come in, Arthur,” he sighed.

“How is he?”

“Still with us.”

Dutch’s face was pale and slack, finally having lost the pained creases. Arthur guessed that was thanks to Reverend Swanson. It was hard to tear his eyes away from the pile of bloody rags on the floor, or ignore Hosea’s red, watery eyes. “What happened, Arthur?” Hosea whispered.

“Bronte set us up. There wasn’t any money at the trolley station. We weren’t in there two minutes before the law was on us.”

“You and Lenny alright?”

“Yeah, yeah we’re fine. Lenny is pretty shook up. I think he blames himself a little.”

They sat in silence, watching the shallow rise and fall of Dutch’s chest. Hosea placed his hand on Dutch’s, thumb rubbing slow circles into the skin.

“What’s our next move, Hosea?” Arthur asked. “We can’t stay here.”

“We have quite a bit of money saved up, but not enough to get on a boat like Dutch wants. That was what the bank job would have been for, but we can’t do that now. We should be able to move the camp and keep us alive for a while, though.”

“We should go back north, maybe up near Annesburg. And try to keep quiet, real quiet this time. No jobs near camp.”

Hosea nodded. “Let me know what you find out. But do it quickly, I imagine we only have a few more days here before they find us.”

“Can I send Molly up here? Lenny, too? I think they both need to see him.”

“Of course.”

Arthur went back downstairs to let Lenny and Molly know the news, then went looking for Charles. They needed to get away from Shady Belle.


	3. Where to Now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this fic has a lot of Micah and Arthur arguing, but honestly that is 100% what would happen.

The fever struck suddenly.

Not that they weren’t prepared for it. Considering how awful the wound had been, infection was almost inevitable.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t breaking Arthur’s heart to see Dutch looking so sick. Dutch was their leader, always confident, making his plans. But this? Flat on his back, eyes shut, sweat pouring down his flushed face. He hadn’t been awake, the only sound from him was his wheezing breathing. And Arthur was stuck between needing to keep busy and wanting to remain at Dutch’s side.

And no matter how much Dutch needed to rest, they needed to move. So Arthur sat with Sadie and Charles, discussing where they would go next.

“We could go to Lakay for now,” Sadie suggested. “At least until we find something better. Everyone around there is scared of the Nightfolk, but I bet the three of us can clear them out.”

“That would be good, for now. I doubt the Pinkertons will follow us that deep into the swamp. But we shouldn’t linger there too long. We need to leave this state behind.”

The three saddled their horses and headed north, carefully navigating the roads into the dark swamp in early evening. Lakay was nothing but a few rundown shacks, and looked abandoned. Arthur moved to check one of the buildings, Charles and Sadie nervously shifting around. It was too quiet, no birds chirping or crickets buzzing. His only warning was the slight creaking beyond the door.

The person slammed him to the ground, Arthur yelling out in warning as he barely managed to stop the knife-wielding hands from descending into his neck! His friends reacted quickly, though whose bullet landed in the assailant’s forehead he did not know. But he pushed the person (he couldn’t even tell if it was a man or woman) off himself, rolling to his feet. The Nightfolk were slipping out of the shadows, and each new appearance surprised him. It took him a second to figure out why.

They were silent!

No yelling, no screaming, they even died without a sound. Charles, Sadie, and Arthur made quick work of them. Even still, after the last body fell, his eyes darted back and forth, looking for the next attacker.

“You alright?” he asked the others.

“Fine,” Sadie said. “What the hell are they? Those aren’t normal people.”

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied. “But they are dead.”

Still, the three of them went through every building, peering deep into the swamp to make sure they were, in fact alone. Once he was sure, Arthur said, “Charles and I will clear these bodies. Sadie, will you get the others to pack up and bring them here?”

“Of course.”

It didn’t take long for Arthur and Charles to turn Lakay into a semi-suitable camp, at least for the moment. They settled in a for a few hours of sleep before the wagons started rolling up to the buildings. Miss Grimshaw started directing the camp on setup. Arthur immediately looked for Hosea, walking towards his wagon as soon as he spotted him. His heart almost stopped when he caught a look at Dutch. Too still, wrapped in a blanket on a stretcher. It reminded him of Davey.

Hosea was running a wet cloth over Dutch’s forehead with one hand, the other running through his dark hair. “He OK?” Arthur asked, and Hosea nodded, though the concern rolled off him in waves.

“We should get him inside,” he said, and motioned to Javier to help him. They each grabbed an end of the stretcher, carrying Dutch to his cot. Molly moved with them, having spent much of her time at Dutch’s side. They had a spare bedroll for her, and Hosea and Arthur, as they were all planning to stay with Dutch.

He watched the others begin to settle in to their new camp, but the mood was low. While they had achieved the goal of moving away from the city, Lakay paled in comparison to having an actual house at Shady Belle, and the dark surrounding bayou made everyone nervous. He could hear Abigail warning Jack to stay close to camp and to not wander alone. They needed somewhere else to go, and soon.

“Charles, John?” He motioned them over, and turned to Javier as well. “I don’t think we can stay here for too long. We should start looking for places up North. Got any ideas?”

“Perhaps Cumberland Forest,” Charles offered. 

“Maybe, but I’m not too keen on ending up so close to Valentine. Plus they’ve got that Army fort out there.”

“I wonder if they are still guarding Blackwater as much,” John said. “If they are looking for us down here, we could cross the Montana and get to New Austin through Tall Trees.”

Arthur shook his head. “Maybe if it was just a few us of, but with the wagons? And one of us injured? New Austin’s too far to go for now.”

“I know a place in Roanoke Ridge, little secluded cave near Annesburg.” Arthur stiffened as he heard the sneering tone of Micah Bell wandering over, uninvited and unwelcome. 

“That’s Murfree Brood country,” Charles pointed out.

“Boss and I talked about hiding there after robbing the bank in Valentine, in case we couldn’t find a boat to Tahiti. Of course, you’re too scared to do that anymore, cowpoke.”

“You just don’t know how to lie low, Micah,” he sighed.

“And what about the boss’s plan, huh? Didn’t know you was so disloyal you would just abandon it first second you could!”

“You think that’s what this is about?” Arthur began to shout, attracting the attention of everyone else. “I know better than to go into a city after I just caused a massacre! The Pinkertons will be there in days, if they aren’t there already!”

“You never wanted to follow what the boss was doing. You’ve been doubting, Arthur!”

“You think Dutch’s plan included Bronte setting us up? Him getting hurt?”

“This is still Dutch’s gang!” Micah shouted. “I don’t follow you. You ain’t in charge just because Dutch is out of commission!”

“No, but I am,” Hosea said, striding over and speaking to the group for the first time in days. “And I agree with Arthur. He has my trust, something you most definitely lack, Mr. Bell.”

Micah turned to Hosea, anger coiled like a rattlesnake. Suddenly, Arthur felt the unease creep up, and had an urge to step between them in case Micah decided to strike.

“We should be getting our revenge on Bronte, old man.”

“This gang has never been about revenge, or have you not listened to anything Dutch has said? Now, if you have nothing to contribute, go help with camp chores.”

The stare down between Micah and Hosea lasted a few more seconds before Micah finally relented, probably due to Arthur, Charles, John, and Javier gathering around him. He stalked off to the edge of camp.

It was quiet for a moment as the camp slowly moved back to work. Arthur turned to the group, said, “Look into Cumberland Forest, Charles, and the East Grizzlies,” before walking with Hosea back to the cabin.

“Think he will do as he’s told?” Arthur asked.

“For now, but I doubt it will last.”

“You don’t think he will rat on us, do you?”

“While Dutch is alive? No. But if Dutch…” he trailed off, but Arthur caught the meaning.

“He’s not going to die, Hosea.”

“Arthur… he’s not doing well,” Hosea sighed. “The infection isn’t getting better, his fever is too high. I’m just worried.”

“I know.”

He glanced over to Dutch’s bed, where Miss Grimshaw was currently taking care of him. Molly had disappeared, probably taking a break. She needed it, Arthur thought. They all did.

But in that moment, Arthur’s only job was to keep everyone safe.


	4. The Waiting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I did Molly a little justice. I never knew how to write her in the past.
> 
> Also, I'm at the dangerous point where I'm posting chapter 4 before I finish chapter 5 (I usually try to keep myself one chapter ahead for the motivation) but due to my soon changing work schedule I will have plenty of time to write!

The next morning, he found Molly crying softly outside Dutch’s cabin.

“You alright, Ms. O’Shea?”

“I’ll be fine,” she lied. 

He hesitated, unsure if he should proceed with the conversation. But he had to say it, make sure she knew. “Look, Molly, do you have money? A place to go?”

That gave a pause to her tears, and she looked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he sighed, “I know things aren’t looking good in there, well they haven’t looked good for a long time. And I know you only stuck with this gang because of Dutch.” Even if they had been fighting since Blackwater.

“I’m not leaving him.”

“I know, but if…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it. “If you ever need to leave, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. I just want to make sure you have the means to get by.”

“I love him, Mr. Morgan.”

“I know.” The stayed silent for a few moments until Molly spoke again.

“I should be able to connect with my family,” she said carefully, “But I don’t know how long I could survive.”

He nodded, thinking over his own finances. “If it comes to that, I should be able to help.”

“Thank you.” 

Almost everyone was in the camp, and yet it had never been so quiet. The only ones missing were Charles and Lenny, who were scoping out a new place to setup camp outside Lemoyne. Lenny hadn’t wanted to go. But Arthur insisted, knowing that the kid needed to feel like he was contributing instead of suffering through the waiting, feeling helpless.

Between Karen, Bill, and Mr. Pearson, the camp alcohol had been reduced to almost zero. They hid some whiskey with Dutch (for medicinal purposes only) and Arthur kept a small bottle of gin in his satchel, but that was it. The result was a forced sobriety for Karen, which Arthur hoped would stick.

One problem, however, was that they were running low on medical supplies. Hosea left once to try to gather some herbs, but it seemed that the only thing Lakay had in supply was alligators. They would be alright for the moment, but soon one of them would have to venture into a town to look for more. A task that Micah just seemed all too keen on, despite his lack of help in other camp matters.

“Come on, cowpoke, we’ve been cooped up here for days! You think you are making the right choice, keeping all of us here?”

Arthur sighed. He was exhausted from days of keeping the camp together, and he wondered if the lack of sleep was getting to him. The conversation between him and Micah had played in a loop, and he was seriously considering just shooting the bastard and dealing with the consequences later. This time, Micah had him cornered alone at the edge of camp, probably trying to avoid yet another public argument. “I’m getting real tired of you, Micah. If I send you into a town full of Pinkertons we will have another disaster on our hands!”

“You can’t keep us locked up here! Think that’s what Dutch would want?”

“Dutch wants all of us to stay alive.”

“We ain’t living, now are we? Come on, Morgan,” Micah leaned in close. Arthur could feel his disgusting breath on his face. “We could make some real money in these parts. Maybe if we just… let go of some of the dead weight…”

Arthur took a step back. “What are you saying?”

“Look, you know it, I know it, we all know it! Dutch ain’t gonna survive much longer. Best to just leave him, and the women, and go make some real money-”

Arthur grabbed Micah by the collar and pushed him into wagon. “Listen here, you snake. You want to run off, make money, get yourself hung, that’s fine! But I won’t let you put them in danger because you get yourself caught and decide to rat on us!” He gestured around the camp. “You think you can make it on your own? Fine! But you are staying here until we’re ready to move camp.”

“You really think that low of me, Morgan,” Micah choked. “You think I would be a rat?”

“All I know is that you only care about yourself. I don’t know why Dutch ever let you in this gang in the first place, but you ain’t part of this family!” 

Micah almost looked like he wanted to say something, to argue back that he did belong. Once, he had tried to gain some favor by claiming to be a son of Dutch, to be Arthur’s brother. But Micah was not liked at all within the gang, and it was clear what he had to do.

“Alright, I was wrong, cowpoke. I’ll follow your lead,” he said, but his voice was laden with sarcasm. Still, Arthur let him go.

“Just stay out of the way.”

Arthur watched Micah walk away, wishing that he could just be rid of the man. Dutch probably wouldn’t forgive him, but he could deal with that later. He continued to do chores for the camp, had some of Pearson’s stew, and was ready to relieve Hosea at Dutch’s side for the night when he saw John sitting alone by the fire.

“Marston?” he called, and John jumped slightly when he was pulled from whatever he had been thinking about.

“Sorry,” he stammered. “Abigail and Jack went to bed already, I was just thinking.”

“It’s OK, I understand.”

Arthur joined him next to the fire, and they stared at the flames in silence. Things had improved between himself and John ever since Jack had been kidnapped, really ever since that train job with the oil wagon. The lingering awkwardness still remained, however. Finally, Arthur spoke.

“I meant to check on you, and Abigail and Jack. Make sure you were doing alright.”

“Jack keeps asking about Dutch,” John said. “Abigail and I… we’re trying to distract him. But it’s been hard.”

“I know.”

“I’m trying to be there for them, but I’m just so worried about Dutch. He’s always been there, you know? I was just a kid and Dutch seemed… invincible. And now?”

He trailed off. But Arthur understood, he had been struggling with it himself. To see the man who was his leader, a father figure, in a situation where he might die?

“It’s been hard on me, too,” he admitted. “Look, I know you’re worried, but no matter what happens, I’ll help you, and Abigail and Jack.”

“Thank you, Arthur.”

“No problem.” He stood up, and clapped John on the shoulder.

“Can I join you tonight, when you sit with Dutch?”

“Sure.”

“OK, I’m just going to check on Abigail quick and then I’ll join you.”

John wandered off to a different cabin, and Arthur couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face. He was glad that John was stepping up as a father. The smile stayed on his face as he wandered to Dutch’s cabin.

Only to immediately be struck over the head when he entered the door!

Arthur stumbled, crashing to the floor. He blinked heavily. A body was on the floor a few feet away, and it took a few seconds for him to recognize Hosea. His eyes tracked movement, and he looked up to see Micah dragging Dutch across the cabin, gun pointed at his head!


	5. The Snake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is brought to you by a nice bottle of Italian wine.
> 
> (Micah's been referred to as a snake before, right? I didn't know what to name this chapter...)

"I wouldn't move, if I were you!"

Arthur's vision was swimming, and he tried blinking rapidly to clear it. His eyes shifted to Hosea on the floor, needing to see that Hosea was still breathing. He hoped he really could see his chest moving, but he wasn't sure. His thoughts swirled rapidly, between Dutch, Hosea, and Micah.

"Now, why don't you toss that gun over here," Micah continued. Arthur hesitated, but then Micah shifted his gun away from Dutch to point at Hosea instead. "Dutch here might be as good as dead, but you don't want the old man to end up the same way, do you?"

Arthur relented, sliding his revolver across the cabin floor. Micah backed slowly towards the door leading out to the water, pulling an unconscious Dutch along with him. Dutch's head was slumped forward on his chest, the drag of his feet on the uneven floorboards offering only a tiny resistance to being taken away.

"What's your plan, Micah? Where are you taking him?" Arthur carefully asked, keeping his hands raised and visible.

"You should've left with me, Morgan. Oh, we could've made so much money without this lot weighing us down." He gestured to Hosea and Dutch, laughing. "But no, you had to be all noble. Well, Dutch's bounty money should set me up nicely, it's not like he was going to live much longer anyways. Hell, maybe he'll last long enough so I can get the extra for bringing him in alive!"

"And you think you are just going to walk out of here?"

"Everyone is asleep, it's just you and me, cowpoke. There's a boat docked right outside. And if you try anything, try to call for help, I'll shoot the old man and the boss. So yeah, I think I'm going to just walk out of here!"

"And just like that, the Pinkertons are just going to hand you the bounty?"

"They always said they only wanted Dutch. Figure they will forgive my crimes if they get their hands on him."

In his mind, Arthur ran through his options. He could wait, he supposed, until Micah was out the door and try for his gun. Or run for help as soon as Micah was out on the water, try to shoot him from shore. Or catch up with them before they reached Saint Denis! But every option had too many risks.

And Micah knew it, too. Even now, with his secret getaway discovered, he was at an advantage. Acting now only risked Micah himself, whereas Arthur could lose both Hosea and Dutch.

Micah gave Dutch a particularly harsh tug, and Arthur winced. At this point, Micah's treatment of Dutch could be killing him faster. But then he focused in on Dutch's face. He swore he saw Dutch wince as well!

"I never liked you, Arthur Morgan," Micah continued, but Arthur wasn't paying attention. Dutch squeezed his eyes tighter, his previously slow breathing picking up to short gasps. His foot moved too, probably trying to support his weight to relieve himself of the painful position he was in. Micah didn't notice, and despite the joy Arthur felt at seeing Dutch move, he didn't want Dutch to wake up like this.

Too late! Dutch's eyes twitched some more, then slipped open. Arthur held his breath as they drifted around the room before they locked onto Arthur.

Micah was still rambling on, Arthur's internally was screaming, _Don't talk, don't say anything, stay still, Dutch, I'll find a way out of this!_

"Arthur?"

Dutch's rough rasp was barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to draw Micah's attention. For a second, the aim of his pistol wavered, and Arthur wished that his own revolver had been in his hand. "It's going to be alright, Dutch," he tried, but his voice shook so much he wondered if Dutch would understand him.

"Well, well, well," Micah recovered quickly, bringing the muzzle back to Dutch's head. "Looks like I can get that full bounty after all! Sorry, Dutch. But you'll bring me more money than this gang ever did!"

He starting moving backwards again, not hindered at all by Dutch's weak struggles and protests. Arthur wasn't even sure Dutch knew where he was, or who had him! All Dutch could see was Arthur growing smaller and smaller, and his heart sank at the realization that there was nothing he could do. His vision tunneled to just the Dutch and Micah. His head was still pounding. There was no solution, no trick he could pull to save all of them.

The floor creaked behind him, and without warning Micah's attention shifted somewhere behind Arthur. The hand holding the pistol moved, turned towards Arthur. No, above him!

BANG!

Micah's head snapped back, blood spraying out from where his head exploded. He collapsed, dragging Dutch down with him. Arthur's head whipped around, and he quickly felt relieved when he saw John, gun still aimed at the space where Micah's head once was.

"Arthur… what…" he started, but Arthur was already stumbling across the room to Dutch.

"Check on Hosea," he said as he reached Dutch's side. At first, he was alarmed when the man didn't move! But when Arthur gently wrapped an arm around his chest and pulled him into his lap, Dutch's glassy, panicked eyes found Arthur's again.

"You're OK, Dutch. I've got you now," he said, placing a hand on the side of Dutch's face in an attempt to steady both of them. He could hear John calling Hosea's name, and turned to see John carefully guiding the older man onto his back. Hosea groaned, which was enough to reassure Arthur for the moment. His own head pulsed with the beating of his heart. The thumping of many footsteps echoed in his ears. No doubt the rest of the gang had heard the gunshot. Several people burst through the door, and Dutch tensed in Arthur's arms. His wheezing breaths sped up, his eyes flickering around the crowd that was squeezing themselves into the cabin.

"Hey, it's OK, they're here to help," Arthur said, but it didn't do any good. Dutch continued to panic, unable to see any face other than Arthur's, and whispered his name again. "Give him some space, alright?" Arthur called out, and several of the people began to back off. He thought he could hear Molly calling out and turned to look, saw Karen grab her around the waist and pull her back. Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen gathered around Molly to reassure her that everything was going to be fine. Sadie had her revolver drawn and pointed at Micah's corpse, as if it could come back to life and hurt them. Javier quickly decided to remove it from their sight. Reverend Swanson headed to Hosea, and Miss Grimshaw reached towards Dutch.

"You're safe now, Mr. Van der Linde," she said.

"It's Susan, Dutch. She's going to help you," Arthur said, and finally Dutch relaxed, still confused but trusting Arthur. His eyes started to flicker shut, but Arthur urged, "Stay awake, just a little longer." And Dutch listened.

Susan began to check Dutch over, checking his head, neck, and the original injury. There was some blood leaking into the bandage, Micah had clearly reopened to wound a little. But Dutch was awake, Dutch was breathing, his eyes stayed on Arthur's. Not long after Arthur felt a hand on his shoulder.

"How's your head?" Reverend Swanson asked, and Arthur jumped at the sudden contact. He hadn't noticed Swanson leave Hosea's side, and he glanced over to see John helping Hosea sit up.

In the moments since Micah died and the adrenaline left his body, Arthur had grown dizzy and tired. There was blood drying down the side of his face from where Micah had hit him. Swanson was being careful as he prodded the cut, but all the exhaustion from the last few days was catching up with him.

"Arthur?" Now Javier was in front of him. "We are going to move him to the other cabin." Dutch's eyes were closed, either asleep or unconscious, and Arthur nodded slowly. Javier lifted Dutch's shoulders so that Arthur could slide out from under him, then moved Dutch to a stretcher with Pearson's help. Swanson helped Arthur stand, pulling Arthur's arm over his shoulder and slipping his own around his waist. Swanson led Arthur alongside Dutch's stretcher, and he kept his eyes locked on Dutch's face.

He was guided onto a cot, Swanson supporting his back as he was gently laid down, his eyes drifting shut to the sight of Miss Grimshaw tucking blankets around Dutch.


	6. The New Start

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! This fic was short, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for all the comments and kudos!

Arthur woke to a gently light streaming in from the window and soft voices reaching his ears. His head ached slightly, but other than that he actually felt well rested for the first time in days.

As he became more and more aware of his surroundings, he was able to distinguish the three voices. A man and a woman were calm and soothing, the other barely more than a rough whisper. Slowly, the words became clear.

"He's fine, I promise," Hosea said. "He just needs rest, the boy's barely slept the last few days."

The other man rasped a response, too quiet for Arthur to understand. He pulled his eyes open, trying to remember how he ended up in this cabin in the first place.

"You should be resting too, Dutch!" Molly insisted, and Arthur shot up out of bed.

He immediately regretted it, clutching his now throbbing head with a groan. A hand fell on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Hosea's concerned face watching him. "You alright?" he asked, and Arthur nodded before shifting his eyes to the bed next to him.

"Dutch," he said, pushing himself up and stumbling to the other man's bedside. Dutch looked exhausted, but his eyes brightened upon seeing Arthur awake. His hand lifted, reaching for his son. Arthur caught it, a smile spreading across his face. "It's so good to see you awake!"

"You too," Dutch replied. "I remember… last night…"

Part of Arthur had hoped that Dutch wouldn't recall waking up to Micah dragging him away. The memories probably wouldn't make explaining it any easier. For whatever reason, Dutch had trusted Micah, and that trust had been broken in the worst possible way.

"Thank you," Dutch continued.

"You should really thank John. He killed Micah, not me."

"I know but… you were there. Thank you."

There would be time to discuss what happened, to help them all to come to terms with it. For now, Arthur simply squeezed Dutch's hand and said, "You're welcome."

Dutch was clearly struggling to stay awake, which led to Hosea saying, "Now then, if you are satisfied with seeing Arthur, would you please get some rest?"

He didn't reply, but his eyes closed. Arthur stayed at his side until his breathing relaxed and evened out. Molly took the seat across from Arthur and opened a book, content just to be at Dutch's side.

"You sure you're alright?" Hosea whispered, finally allowed to express his own worry.

"Fine," he said, though Hosea continued to give him the questioning look until he relented and admitted, "My head is still hurting a little. You?"

"The same, unfortunately."

"Dutch really going to be OK?"

"Yes, he's going to be fine. The fever seems to have run its course. Some quiet and lots of rest, and he'll recover."

They got up and left Molly to her reading. John ran over immediately upon seeing him, both Jack and Cain following close behind. "Uncle Arthur!" Jack called, and Arthur scooped the boy up into a hug.

"How are you, how's Dutch?" John asked.

"I'm fine. Dutch is good. You saved his life, John."

A crowd was beginning to gather around them, and Arthur put Jack down so he could run off and play with the dog. Javier spoke up, "I can't believe Micah would betray Dutch like that!"

"I never liked Micah, but to do that?" Tilly shook her head.

"What did you do with the body?" Arthur asked.

"Dumped it in the swamp for the gators," Javier replied.

Arthur felt a small smile tugging at his lips despite the situation. Micah certainly got what he deserved, and for the first time in days he was certain they were going to survive.

* * *

Charles and Lenny returned late one afternoon, having found a secluded area in the east Grizzlies to hide and recover. Lenny rushed to Dutch's side as soon as Arthur shared the good news. He could see the relief on Lenny's face the second they entered the cabin and saw Dutch propped up on all the camp's pillows, conversing quietly with Hosea.

"Mr. Summers and Mr. Smith!"

"Dutch! Good to see you again," Lenny said.

"Arthur said you drove us out of there. You did good, son."

"I just wish I would have seen that officer before…"

"Stop it, Lenny," Arthur said. "I told you a hundred times it wasn't your fault."

"There's more," Charles said, holding up a newspaper. Hosea grabbed it, then laughed at the top article.

"Congratulations, Dutch! You're dead!"

"WHAT?" Both Arthur and Dutch shouted. Arthur pulled the newspaper from Hosea's grasp, holding it so both he and Dutch could read.

**NOTORIOUS VAN DER LINDE PRESUMED DEAD!**

_The leader of the Van der Linde gang is presumed dead following a robbery on the Saint Denis trolley station last week. Police officers quickly arrived on the scene, but the three outlaws, including Dutch van der Linde himself, led officers in a chase through the city. Witnesses claim to have seen Mr. Van der Linde shot by police and carried out of the city by an associate._

_Following the robbery, members of the Van der Linde gang have not been seen and are not suspected for any new crimes, leading Agent Milton of the Pinkerton Detective Agency to believe Mr. Van der Linde to have died from his injuries, and the rest of the gang members have scattered!_

The rest of the article just listed Dutch's crimes and the bounties for the rest of the members, but it had Arthur laughing. "I don't believe it!"

"Think the Pinkertons really believe that? Are they going to stop chasing us?" Charles asked.

"Let's not stick around and find out," Hosea chuckled. "Tell me about this new campsite you found."

"I'll let Miss Grimshaw know to start packing up," Arthur said. He left Dutch with Lenny, listening to Charles describe the lush forests and nearby lake of their new camp. It sounded as if the place was pretty secluded, with only a cabin or two around for anyone else to live in. Hosea joked that there better not be another giant bear. Soon, Lakay was a bustle of activity, with Miss Grimshaw directing the tear down and packing of the wagons.

Dutch was loaded in the back of the wagon again, Hosea and Susan ignoring his protests that he could sit up front. Despite the fact that he was still resting, just the sight of Dutch awake and complaining was a stark contrast to how they had entered Lakay.

And as soon as they rolled into the new camp, Arthur knew it was a great place. The wind rustling the tall trees, the nearby water, and of course the lack of alligators made for a much better home. Jack and Cain immediately ran around the area, constantly getting under foot as they put together the tents.

"I think this place could work for a while," he told Hosea and Dutch.

"And we can really lay low this time," Hosea said, sending a stern look to Dutch.

"No arguments from me. I don't think I'm going anywhere for a while. You sure we got enough money?"

"To survive for a few weeks? Definitely!" Hosea said. "There's plenty of game to hunt, a lake full of fish, so we won't go hungry. We have enough to get well stocked in medical supplies, and Arthur knows a guy who can give us the lead on stagecoach robberies away from here. We're going to be just fine."

Arthur stood by as the two of them talked, finally able to relax. It was as if the weight that had been sitting in his shoulders since Blackwater had lifted, and the gang suddenly had a future. He smiled, and listened to Dutch and Hosea make their plans.


End file.
